Conquered
by lol llamas
Summary: Four years after the Second Rebellion was lost, Katniss Everdeen has given up entirely. Now twenty-one years old, her life has been taken over by Snow. Prostitution, marriage, mentor, what else? One more demand by Snow could just push her over the edge.
1. Defiled

1

**Defiled**

The lights begin to dim and a shudder runs through my entire body as I wait for his advance. The big man is hidden under the disturbing shadow, but I can still make out his pale, watery green hair and tanned, muscled arms. The shadows shift and light footsteps grow louder as he crosses the room. He smiles down at me – it's not a smile of affection but desire. He slides his hand up and down my arm, looking over my body. I imagine the trail of skin cells he strokes blackening and dying away. Absolutely anything would be better than having his touch linger on my skin.

He grabs me by the waist so tightly I know there will be bruises when I look over them later. He presses his mouth against mine roughly and lifts me back the few feet towards the enormous, white bed. The mattress sinks at the weight as he lays me down slowly, never letting his face leave mine. He climbs on top and assumes his control. But he hesitates at my rigidity, seemingly unsure whether I am enjoying myself. I resist a sob at my powerlessness and force a moan instead. Encouraged, he takes off where he stopped. He knots his hand in my hair, pulling at the roots, and lets the other roam my bare body. I want to scream and push away from him, but I know it won't help. He paid for me tonight; he will be having me tonight. So I let him slip his hand between my thighs and growl seductively, trying to force a reaction from my lifeless form. I shut my eyes tight.

'I actually heard you're really good. My friend had you last year.' He pauses. '_Show_ me how good,' he demands.

I shut my eyes again and exile any agonizing thoughts from my weary mind. 'Okay,' I whisper almost inaudibly and nod.

This was the only way I survived the aftermaths of the rebellion. When everything the Rebels built came down and the Capitol took over the country yet again. This was how I, and everyone else I could get my hands on, survived. By shoving every single thought of hatred and disgust I had for the Capitol into the tiny box chained inside, and turning the young girl who used to be me away. Especially when all I wanted to do was place the tiny, deep violet capsule, hidden and long forgotten by others, inside my mouth.

The instinctive response of my skin making hard contact with his was mechanical, and the action so separate from myself I did not need to be completely aware of what I was doing to do it. All I was knew was I was having sex with this green-haired man, and it needed to be pleasurable. I run my manicured nails down his smooth back and leave angry red marks from his neck to his waist while he kisses me. I roll the both of us over on the bed and get on top of him. This causes the silk sheets of the bed to fall to the ground. He smirks as he looks up at me, smug he finally received a response.

I quickly duck my head down to press my mouth onto his, and my long, dark hair drops to the pillow like curtains, covering the most part of his face. _That's much better,_ I thought.

He starts shifting under me and sits himself up. My arms are tugged forward and I let him drag me onto his lap. I hug my polished body against his. His skin is extremely warm. Almost hot. He pushes my long hair to one side and presses his lips on my jaw. Then down my neck. He's blue, smooth hands are rubbing circular patterns on my back. I knot my hands into his short straight hair. His hand stops on the small of my back, and he gradually begins to lower me backward onto the bed. He breaks away to breathe, then climbs on top of me again. I wrap my slim legs around his waist and snake my arms around his head.

My eyes snap open. It takes me only a fraction of a second to realize how vulnerable he is. In one fluid movement, I could snap his neck and throw his limp body on the side of the bed. The desire to fight back builds up within me. I imagine kicking his dead body off the bed and then walking out the door. The longing to kill beckons for the first time in four years. I consider this option deeply while he kisses the hollow of my neck.

A long, intense minute passes before I sigh in defeat. He is not the one I need to kill. The usual feeling of vulnerability returns to me as I begin to release what may be my last chance of defiance. I untangle myself from his body.

* * *

When he's done, he falls back to the fluffy pillow beside me to try catch his breath. My night is done so I sit up straight and swing my feet of the bed. I stand and examine the room. It's a mess. I tie my hair in a low ponytail and begin searching for my clothes.

'Katniss, you can sleep here if you want.' The stranger offers patting the pillow beside his head, not even bothering to sit up and face me.

I ignore him, and scurry around the dark room, rampaging for my clothes. It's impossible to see anything in the darkness so I grope the wall for the light switch. The entire room suddenly lights up. I scan the disarrayed area for my clothes with an indifferent face. I don't gasp at the sight of Capitol rooms anymore. I've been here too long for it to have the same effect as it did five years ago, when I first arrived here.

'Fine. Go back to your insane husband.' He mocks humourlessly. 'I've heard rumours, you know? They say that he chopped up your mentor up one by one! Starting down from his foot up to his head.' The man laughs.

It was like a punch to the gut. I wince at the pain of the memory, and cross my arms over my stomach, trying not to choke up. I shake my head to clear it, but it only dizzies me and I begin to see sparkles everywhere. I stand frozen for a minute with my eyes closed. A low buzz hums in the background. When I've steadied myself, I continue looking for my clothes. I find my purple, sequin dress rumpled on the ground at the foot of the bed. It shimmers as I pick it up. Weirdly I notice tiny ants are crawling all over the material. I quickly shake them off, then throw it over my head and walk out the door coolly. The man breathes out in exasperation and rolls his eyes. By the time the door clicks shut, my cool pretence wears off completely. The sudden change of fragrance from the man's room to the Capitol's perfumed air leaves me nausea and I bend over and vomit up the little food I had inside my stomach. The clumps of ingested chicken from this morning cling onto my free hair. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and lean my back against the wall of the low-lit hallway. In the distance, I hear a couple laugh in their conversation.

_This is disgusting. _I pause in realization. _I'm disgusting._

A rush of sympathy overcomes me as I think of Finnick, and how he has been doing this for over ten years. I realise there is also a pint of jealousy at his confidence and strength. I shake the _wrong_ feeling from my body. I'm not ungrateful because I have been lucky; I'm glad I've only been doing this for only three years, but I'm sure I'll be alive long enough that I won't ever be glad again. I want to start crying. For both me and Finnick. And everyone else I can't help, but I force myself up. It's not the right time. I don't want anyone to see me so weak. I hurriedly clean my face when I see the man and woman from before pass me in the connecting hallway. They would've ignored me completely had the women not recognized me, they're faces are mixtures of excitement and curiosity at finding a Victor. The woman is in a pink dress draped with animal prints and begins to approach with thick, stumpy legs before catching sight of the puddle of mess beside me, seeping into the carpet.

She makes a sound of disgust and backs away. "Look at her. She's disgusting. I don't know why people talk about how gorgeous she is. She's not even that pretty," she says in a nasal voice. "I'm _much _prettier than her, aren't I Furnic?" She turns to her partner, expectantly. "Furnic?"

"Of course, Drella. She turned into this utter mess after Peeta killed their mentor. I heard from Livy that he actually set the large man alight! Beard first!' the man chuckles. "I hadn't heard that it'd dragged on _this _long though. I mean, it's been almost a year!" the man with the green top hat replies in an equally high voice as they sidestep past me. When they're out of earshot, I head for the exit.

I stumble out of the apartment building and am welcomed by the vividness of the Capitol's bright lights. The lights are always so blindingly bright within this city you can never see the stars – which suited me well. The stars always reminded me of the dead tributes being project upon the arena's night sky. There's always something to remind you of the Hunger Games in the Capitol. I drag my feet across the ground towards the sleek, silver Capitol limousine. Snow had made a point to give me everything a normal Capitol citizen would have; a car, apartment, clothes, everything. Everything that would rub into my face more, that I was never going back to District 12 or 13 again, that my home didn't want me back, and that now I was living in the very place that had sent me to my death in the first arena four years ago. He'd made me apart of the Capitol.

I open the door to new vehicle and dump my exhausted, defiled body into the vehicle, letting my body sink into the soft, comfy seat. The car drives smoothly and soon streaks of coloured neon lights flash across my window glass. This is the first time I have been alone all night. With no one to go to next. It's relieving. I lean back and cocoon my body into the seat. Then I remember solitude is always followed by memories. So before I know it, flashes of tonight, and every other night since the first time, screen in my head. However hard I try to push them away, they come back faster, stronger and clearer. I sob and wail in the back of the car incoherently. It's better I do it here, in the confinement of the moving car – where a black, sound-proof partition separates me from the elderly driver – than in the bathroom at home with Peeta banging on the door only a room away. The very mention of Peeta brings on a powerful flood of the painful thoughts I'd thought I locked away earlier. This was all so unfair. Even more so to him than me. I shake as the overwhelming waves of shame, guilt and depression pound on my already weak body.

This night, just like every other night, is one more reason why I am going to kill Snow.


	2. Shamed

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much for the previous reviews and follows, and especially to the ones that actually came back for the full chapter. To be clear, I've not abandoned you, I've abandoned what I wrote previously and sort of started again. Hope this makes up for the couple of months or so of absolute non-productivity and laziness.

At the anonymous Omg, she's a prostitute.

* * *

2

**Shamed**

Home is empty when I arrive.

It's not District 12 but it's grown to become home in its own way. There's no soft vanilla scent that lingers in the air from Mother's perfume she saved from town. Or the layer of coat dust mixed with Lady's hair coating the pale marble floor of the penthouse. There's not even Lady, or Mother, or even Prim. There's only me. And Peeta.

My head is spinning and I'm worried I'll topple over soon so I feel my way towards the kitchen bench and sit. _I'm growing so weak, _I tell myself, close to crying. You can't show your weakness in the Captiol, not with all these roses and cameras around you. You have to be cautious but I feel myself deteriorating. I can't think of anything from the past without feeling anxious and sick. But there's nowhere to avoid it here with all the portraits and memories. _There's no more Haymitch, as well._ I'd forgotten but remembered now.

Being home after what I came back from, and thinking of all the difference four years can make whelms me. My nails claw at my face, leaving deep marks down to my chin. My heartbeat quickens like the sprint of a deer after the hunter has begun the hunt. There's nothing in my stomach to even escape, so only bile launches up my throat, burning its sides, and spills onto the kitchen bench. Some of it sticks onto the palm of my hands. I can't breathe or understand the thoughts rushing through my mind because the only urge I can think of is to _scrub_. I stare at my foreign arms and legs with panic rising within me, restricting my dry throat and tightening my chest. All I can _see_ are flashes from tonight of coloured lips and bejewelled hands and all I can _feel_ is the touch of them all over me. I _need_ to wash it all off my skin. I don't want to have to remember it.

My bare feet pound across the floor with an urgency towards the bathroom on the opposite side of the house, racing to pound faster than my heartbeat. The slickness of the marble floor take advantage of my bare feet and I fall on my side to the ground. A sharp pain thunders through my jawbone and I groan in frustration. _It's only been four years,_ I cry to myself, _this isn't me. I survived the Hunger Games, why am I like this?_ I grab hold of the surrounding furniture and pull myself back up.

Walking is easier, I won't fall from walking so I walk the remainder of the way to the bathroom. I switch the shower tap on with a button, then, shredding out of the ostentatious clothing I'd been given to wear in the evening, I surrender to the bathtub, unhurriedly filling with scolding, clean water and scrub until my skin is raw. It's here, alone in the bathroom with no dignity to speak of, where I let myself cry the remains of tonight away because _surely_ Snow will have more lined up tomorrow.

* * *

Sitting under the hammering waterfall of the shower, the tendrils of panic finally leave my body. A thick brush lies beside me with a flanks of dead skin cells tangled to the bristles. I watch as the water surrounding me is sucked into the drain in wide swirls. Looking upon my body, all I see is red. Angry, red scratches turning my entire body raw. I bite my bottom lip and feel shame replace my disgust. It'd been over a fortnight since I last felt the need to scrub. _Your pathetic Katniss__,_ I tell myself numbly, _absolutely pathetic._

Tucking a strand of slick hair away, I step out of the bathtub naked and dry myself with fluffy, white towels. I can't stand to feel so vulnerable without a stitch of clothing on so I rush to pull on undergarments as fast as my hands will allow. I move cautiously towards the wall-length mirror in my underwear to review the damage from tonight. The reflection isn't pleasant. I count the blooming bruises in my head. _Thirteen_ _– rather fitting; one strike for each of the thirteen Districts I abandoned._

I turn away in shame and leave the room, numb and ready for sleep.

* * *

_A hush falls over the enormous room and a pale man on a stage clears his throat. He looks important and I try pay attention but I can't see his face. He begins speaking but it all comes out as a slur. I move closer but I still can't hear him. Then I realize it's because it's all being drowned away by the blazing fire outside. The glass windows begins melting and the walls blackening. I scream at everyone to run, "We're going to die, run! Run!"_

..The rebellion has come to an end with the Capitol rising out of the rubble gleaming and stronger than ever…

_A hand cups my shoulder and it's Haymitch, he's telling me to shut up. "No, there's a fire. We have to run! There's a fire, Haymitch!" I shout at him with wild eyes. He's not reacting, no one is. They're all sitting seriously, facing the pale stranger – the man speaking – but I still can't hear him. "Haymitch, we have to go." I shake him so hard it makes me dizzy. No, wait. He's shaking me._

…This is not without loss or suffering, however…

_He won't listen. I look frantically around for help and see mother cradling Prim. No, they can't be here, I think in denial and I run to them, fearing the worst if they don't leave now. But then there's Peeta and he's stopping me, blocking my way. I tell him to move, he can't keep me from getting to Prim, but he doesn't budge. I push him to the ground but there he is again, blocking my way, looking at me with a pitiful, pained expression._

…The punishments for our victors and rebels will be different this time…

"_Katniss, you can't help them anymore." He says and it repeats in my head. "Katniss, you can't help them anymore." Tears are rimming my eyes and I'm getting angry. Angry at him, even though I don't know what he means. I tell him to leave me alone and push him out of the way. This time he doesn't come back so I run to Prim._

…The rebels shall burn but the Victors shall survive, just as they always have…

_I can almost reach her. My fingers are stretching out, they're about to reac– the scene dissolves and Prim is gone. Then a horrible scream is heard around the room and I can't breathe. She's screaming. Prim's screaming. And now I'm screaming because I can see her. "Someone help her, she's on fire!" I cry to the entire room but they still don't listen. They've all turned and are now watching her die._

…Because death is honourable and death is easy, the few chosen shall linger behind and live the entirety of their lives in penance for their atrocious crimes…

_Alongside her is mother. I lunge forward to try help but guards are holding me back. I kick, scream and squirm to be released but their grip is iron strong. They're not guards, it's Peeta and Haymitch. They won't let go. My body slumps and I look at back at Prim and mother, defeated, with tears in my eyes – and then I see them all. There's so many._

…While the remaining shall perish in flames that sparked the rebellion to be remembered no longer. For their contributing efforts for the Rebels in the rebellion have been the direct causes of many deaths within our home Capitol…

_Johanna. Beetee. Plutarch. Effie. Paylor. Venia. Octavia. Flavius. Enobaria Everything fades to black…_

* * *

Consciousness takes me with a start, and I'm gasping for breath and crying. I'm crying so much but I don't care the slightest because my mind is occupied by the overwhelming feeling of pain in the pit of my stomach and chest. "They're all gone because you didn't help them!" I shriek at myself.

I push the thick covers off my overheated body and hurry back to the ensuite. Haymitch had warned me not to use it too often, but this was a special occasion. I allowed myself this one night to be blissfully released. I head straight to fifth drawer under the left sink. An array of coloured tin boxes containing all sorts of basic medicine are exposed, I search through the pile, growing desperate when I can't find the single white container. My fingers fumble around the back until they finally seize a lone bottle in the corner, hidden from view. My hands begin shaking in anticipation and I have to restrain myself from pouring the entire contents of the large bottle across the table. There'd surely be the unlucky one that rolled astray only to found later by others. I grimace at the thought of Peeta finding the tiny syringe. The pain is brief and is quickly replaced by the cool sensation of numbness. For the first time in a long time, I truly smile in perfect bliss.

* * *

Maybe, review? I hear it's free. And constructive criticism wouldn't hurt.


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